Skyline
by freeflow
Summary: For centuries the skyline has captivated mankind. Some long for the blue of the sky, some the blue of the sea, some for the road leading there, some for what lies beyond. But for the Tracy brothers, sometimes the skyline can be more of a curse than a ca


**Title:**** Skyline**

**Rating:**** T**

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own nor claim to have invented the recognisable characters or settings used in this work; they are the property of Gerry Anderson and his estate. This is a work of fiction created for entertainment purposes only; no financial gain is being made. Any original characters are of my own design for the purposes of this story.**

**Summary:**** For centuries the skyline has captivated mankind. Some long for the blue of the sky, some the blue of the sea, some for the road leading there, some for what lies beyond. But for the Tracy brothers, sometimes the skyline can be more of a curse than a captivation...**

**A/N: ****This fic was born from a piece of dialogue that I had rattling around in my head. I love playing around with speech, and I love playing with the Tracy boys, so voila! Here lies Skyline, proceed at your peril. Let's see how far this experiment can go...**

Skyline

'Aw, come on guys, we can do this! We've lived on a desert island for years now, piece of cake.'

A choked laugh from behind him caused a red eyebrow to raise in question.

'Er, reality-check Gordon. We've lived on a tropical island in a billion dollar estate with central heating, air-conditioning, a swimming pool, regular home-made meals and a mad scientist who would invent a machine to dress us if we asked him to. Not exactly outback survival training.'

Gordon's head tilted to one side as he considered his brother's outburst.

'Point to Virgil.'

With a satisfied nod, the brunette settled back against a rock. Placing his head gingerly against the sun warmed surface, he raised a hand to his eyes in an attempt to lessen the effect of an already burning hot sun.

'You'd better keep this Gordo,' Scott threw his baseball cap to his younger brother, prompting a flailing catch in order to save the garment from the dusty sand. 'This sun is going to get even worse by noon, and your skin can't deal under the best of circumstances.'

Perching the cap at a jaunty angle, Gordon shot his brother a grin.

'Thanks Scotty. I always thought this would suit me better. After all, I am a damn fine pilot.'

Another snort from Virgil had Scott striding forward to straighten the cap. Holding the peak and examining the emblem on the front with exaggerated attention, he heaved a sigh.

'I don't know Virg. Either we went wrong somewhere when he was learning to read, or you weren't the only one who hit his head. I could have sworn this little tadpole just said that my 'Born To Fly' cap, made specifically for us real pilots and not for part timers who would rather splash about in the ocean than do a real job, suits him better.'

Pushing the now covered head lightly in a practiced older brother swipe, he continued with the motion, dropping to his knees in front of his other sibling and resting a hand on the outstretched leg.

'Remind me to teach him a lesson when we're all back on our billion dollar estate. Tadpoles belong in the water, only dreaming of the sky.'

Smiling at Scott but keeping his eyes closed against the glare from the white sand, Virgil rolled his head towards their resident mischief maker.

'Hey Gords, you do know tadpoles only ever turn in to frogs right? If you wanted to fly, you'd be better off impersonating a caterpillar.'

Knowing where his brother was going with this comment, Scott twisted round to smirk at their target. 'Yep, at least then you could turn in to a butterfly.' Sighing and shaking his head, he stage whispered to Virgil, squeezing the knee beneath his hand. 'As it is, the most he'll ever turn in to is a toad.'

Far from being annoyed with his brothers double-teaming, Gordon smacked his knee and laughed aloud.

'You guys are a riot! Wait 'til I tell Al, you've finally grown a sense of humour. He'll need hard evidence, of course, but after twenty years of living with you, it had to happen eventually right?'

Straightening suddenly and dropping his fake laughter, he slumped beside his brothers and looked pointedly at Virgil's pale face.

'You alright Virg? You're looking a little off colour yourself.'

Cracking his eyes open, Virgil smiled at his younger brother, trying to soothe the underlying fear in Gordon's question.

'Just fine Gordo, just fine. It's the sea that's making me a little nauseous, nothing to worry about.'

Meeting each others glances, Scott and Gordon both snorted in mutual disbelief.

'Er, Virg, I think to get sea-sick you actually have to be _on_ the sea, like a boat or something.'

Huffing tiredly and scrubbing at his closed lids with a dusty hand, Virgil directed a pointed glare at his brothers.

'Well sorry to buck the trend guys, but I'm evidence to the contrary. So how about you just let me decide what it is that's making me so pale, and you can start to figure out a way to get us home.'

Clamping his eyes shut again, Virgil let his head drop back on to the rock behind him, and both brothers tried to ignore the wince that crossed his already tense features at the over-zealous contact.

Feigning nonchalance, Gordon did what he did best; caused a distraction.

'Whew, who knew Virgil could be such a grump? All it takes is a boat accident, a sprained ankle and a knock on the head and he becomes a five year old Alan on bath night.'

Hiding a grin but ultimately appreciating the effort, Scott clapped Gordon on the shoulder.

'He's right though, Gords. What are we going to do? You know the tides around here, what are the chances of one of us using the wreckage to swim back to the island? It can't be too far.'

Ignoring Virgil's under-the-breath muttering, and trying unsuccessfully to hide a grin when he picked out 'wouldn't be so pale if they'd stop hovering, let me get some sun' coming from his older brother, Gordon shook his head. 'No, it's too far Scotty, even for me. Most of it would be against the oncoming tide, and I'd more than likely get swept back here anyway, or even out to sea.'

Hearing more low pitched rumbling from Virgil had Gordon swiping before he could consider the action.

'And before you say it, no, that would _not_ be alright for a 'tadpole' like me.'

The intended laughter did not arrive, as Gordon withdrew his hand as though scalded. His innocent swing at his brother had not gone astray, landing with slight force on Virgil's shoulder. Under normal circumstances, Gordon knew he would have been buried beneath the two older Tracy boys, battling to keep his face out of the sand and from being dragged to the water's edge. Yet as it was, rather than rough and tumble mischief, the next ten minutes were spent with Virgil hanging on to the rock with one hand, and Scott's increasingly crumpled T-shirt in the other, retching on to the once pristine whiteness of the beach. Devastated and desperate to help, Gordon ran back and forth between his brothers and the sea, sacrificing his favourite shirt in order to help cool Virgil down.

After his fourth mad dash, another shirt full of sea water and a lull in Virgil's frenzied gagging, Scott finally realised what Gordon had been doing, and shook his head in despair.

'Gords, I've just spent the last quarter of an hour trying to keep one brother together, and here you are trying to take the skin off your back. Put your shirt back on, tadpole, or we'll be able to fry eggs on that sunburn.'

Frustration and guilt were not two of Gordon's most sought after feelings.

'Well excuse me for trying to help! I couldn't think of anything else alright, and unless you've got a handy icepack on you, or a nice bottle of water, then I'd say I did the best with what I had.' Thrusting his arms with difficulty back through the sodden shirt sleeves, Gordon crashed down once more. Thinking him finished, Scott turned back to Virgil with a slight grin tugging at his mouth.

'And he says the red-headed temper is just a stereotype...'

Laughing out loud at the whispered comment, Scott placed a hand on his brother's forehead. Feeling the heat there, Scott quickly became distracted from his angry sibling and tried to judge whether Virgil was simply hot due to the weather, or if he was more injured than he had let them know. Consequently he jumped, then, as a voice boomed from just behind his shoulder;

'I kept the stupid hat on anyway!'

Spinning to shoot Gordon a look that Scott had developed from an early age, the flame haired Tracy settled back down in to the sand and began twisting the sea water out of his shirt. Having suitably chastised his sibling with nothing more than a glance, and feeling buoyed by his brother's obvious obedience when faced with said look - even twenty years after its initial appearance - Scott turned to help Virgil lean back against his rock.

Looking even paler than before, but with two vivid stripes of pink lancing over his cheekbones, Virgil did not protest the treatment, or the assistance. Moving slightly in order to block the rays a little, Scott raised his brother's head, holding on to his chin with a gentle hand.

'Virg, I need you to look straight at me. Virgil. Open your eyes brother, I know you're in there somewhere. And yes, I know Gordon's being annoying and pretending to sleep seems a much easier option, but the sooner I check you over the sooner we can get to escaping this small portion of paradise you seem to have landed us on.'

Rolling back heavy eyelids, Scott was immediately fixed with a glare which Gordon, had he not been sulking, would have gleefully informed him had been used by the oldest Tracy brother only seconds before. Unable to escape it, Scott was frozen in place whilst Virgil's satin soft voice rose above the serene waves.

'_I_ did not crash the boat. _I_ did not drag me here. _I_ most certainly did not wake up this morning and declare it to be a 'perfect sailing day', nor did I hide my newest composition so that I could blackmail myself in to coming on this merry jaunt in to the second circle of Hell. You want paradise Scotty? How about next time you go off to hunt for it, you and your composition stealing, blackmailing, waking-me-up-at-four-thirty-in-the-morning-with-a-penny-whistle sidekick get up nice and early, pack a map which takes in to consideration hidden reefs and rocks, and leave me to sleep in the peace of my comfy bed, where I don't throw up from a concussion or have my face peel off from noon-day exposure to the Pacific sun. That would be nice, _brother_.'

Scott suddenly felt like a seven year old, and had to wonder if his stare was even half as powerful as Virgil's. Then again, if it was, Alan and Gordon would never have done anything wrong and both become paragons of virtue and humility. Scott was an optimist, but even he knew enough to know that neither of his younger brothers was bound for sainthood just yet. The only explanation was that Virgil had learned this particular skill from the original master, and had secretly been practising for all these years, just waiting to use it. Either that, or Scott was just plain spoiled being the oldest and having the last say in most arguments.

A snort from behind him reminded Scott of his audience, and he felt humiliation start to tinge his cheeks, only to be rescued by the same delicately scathing voice he had just fallen prey to.

'And don't think I've forgotten about you either, frog-boy. You might be smiling now, but just wait until we get back to the island. You may not have been 'Born To Fly', but I can assure you that you'll learn fast enough, given the right circumstances.'

And with that, Virgil closed his eyes once more and was silent.

Time stretched. Scott stared at his brother's impassive face for at least five minutes, while Gordon went from wringing out his top to wringing his hands.

Sliding up to his oldest brother still on his knees, Gordon nudged him with a deft elbow.

'Scotty, what'd he mean by that? Huh, Scotty - you know Virg best - what do you think he means?'

Still stunned yet slightly amused by the terror his usually placid brother had managed to instil in under a minute, Scott just shook his head.

'I have no idea Gordy. I just think...well, maybe you shouldn't walk anywhere high up for a while, you know?'

His face creasing in anguish, the younger Tracy looked quickly from one brother to the other, then back again in a frantic motion.

'What do you mean? Like, the gangway to TB2? But Scotty, I have to go in there, it's my week to clean it out! And I left some sandwiches behind the co-pilot's seat, if I don't tidy them up he'll be even more mad, and I don't even want to know what he'll be like then!'

'Well, I meant more like around the island Gords, like high places. Just, avoid the cliffs for a while. And the bridge beside the waterfall. Oh, and the high-dive board. Just until he cools down, okay?'

Nodding, wide-eyed, Gordon slid over to Virgil with a lowered head and placating half-smile plastered to his face.

'Virg? You awake?'

'He'd better be, or else I'll kill him. He knows better than to sleep with a concussion.'

A growl emerged from the silent brother and Gordon jumped back a little, just out of swinging distance.

'I know damn well not to sleep oh leader my leader, don't worry about that. And with you two yapping so much, who could possibly drop off anyway.'

'Oh, well that's good Virg. I mean, that you know. And, that you're, you know, doing that, I mean, not sleeping. Because you know what could happen, right.'

A sigh emerged and Virgil settled lower in to the sand.

'Yes Gordon, I know what could happen.'

'Good, good. Er, is there anything I can do, for you, I mean, like, well,' both older brothers let the silence drag with vague amusement as they waited for the red head to come up with something. 'I don't know, some water maybe? 'Cept we've only got salt water, so you can't drink it, but it might cool you down a bit.' No response had Gordon floundering and Scott smiling behind a strategically placed hand. 'Or, erm, I could make a pillow out of sand, for you to lie down on. Oh, but you're supposed to be staying awake so... Erm, no, we can't do that, so, how about... well... maybe...'

Coming up empty and dropping his head in defeat, Gordon lifted the cap off and fanned his face with it. With a depressed tone and guilt in his eye, he shrugged his shoulders and leaned forward.

'You can have the cap, I guess.'

Unable to hold it in any longer, Scott began to laugh at his brother's gracious offer.

'Well as generous as that would be Gords, I think you need it a little more than Virgil does. After all, he does have a _normal_ hair colour and skin tone. Keep the cap, kid, if just to stop the glare from the sun hitting that ginger mop and blinding us all.'

Finally realising that his older brother had been playing with him, Gordon's sense of humour reasserted itself en force. Laughing along with Scott, he pointed an accusing finger at Virgil and said through his chuckles;

'To think you told me all through school that this hair made me unique, and that all those bullies were just jealous of me.'

Seeming to sense that the conversation had come back round to him, Virgil shrugged his shoulders very gingerly and waved a hand.

'I never told a lie Gords. It was unique, that's for sure, and none of us have quite figured out which family you must have been adopted from. But those kids were jealous. None of them had the ability to power a small village with the solar panel growing out of _their_ head, now did they?'

At this, all three brothers broke out laughing; Scott punching Gordon hard in the shoulder, knocking the younger man to the sand. Desperately trying to catch his breath, Gordon squirmed around until his giggles passed, then after a few minutes just soaking up the warmth of the sun, straightened back up, pulling his now adopted cap to cover his rapidly colouring cheeks.

'Well, that may be so, but I'd settle for just enough to power the radio. I didn't check before helping pull Virg in to shore, but the radio on the boat shouldn't have taken too much damage. It was wedged quite high up on those rocks last time I saw it. The back half, anyway.'

At this Virgil groaned.

'Oh the back half. He was in WASP for how long? And still he calls it 'the back half'.'

Scott laughed again, but put his hand to Virgil's cheek once more, hearing the lethargy in his voice.

'Well you didn't expect him to learn anything there, did you Virg? I mean, he's always been a bit slow. He called you 'Birbil' until he was twelve.'

The distraction carried on in earnest as Scott proceeded to check over his brother. Happy to help, Gordon's mock-irritation sounded loud for all to hear.

'Hey! I was three, and you know it! And as for WASP, well, let's just say I could teach you a thing or two, Mr Scott 'Wings' Tracy!'

Satisfied that Virgil was not in imminent danger of lapsing in to unconsciousness but eager to get moving, Scott stood and began surveying their surroundings with all the proficiency of a highly trained rescue operation leader. He kept one ear on the conversation though, just in case Virgil sounded worse, or Gordon got too cocky.

'Teach me a thing or two? I already know how to swim, tadpole, and blowing bubbles just isn't as fun when you're not a six year old in the swimming pool.'

'Huh, well how about a competition when we get back? WASP versus 'wings', the ultimate showdown! We'll see once and for all just who is the best.'

'Er guys, before this turns in to a death match, for once, could you count me out? I'd much rather sit inside eating some of Grandma's cake than be caught between you two again. And Gords, what is with the nicknames? I swear if the only thing to come out of this is you calling Scott 'wings' and him calling you 'tadpole', I'd better not get stuck with 'Birbil' again.'

'Hey guys, I think there're some caves along that cliff wall over there. We might get a bit wet, but at least we'd be out of direct sunlight.'

Nodding decisively, without waiting for an answer from either brother, Scott patted the back of Gordon's head, prompting the younger Tracy to help him. Together they each wrapped one of Virgil's arms around their shoulders, and on the count of three, levered him slowly to a standing position.

Heaving in breaths as though he had just finished a cross-country run, Virgil let his head hang down and to the side, using Scott's shoulder as a prop.

Whispered assurances brushed past his brown hair, and Gordon kept a close eye on the tiny piece of face he could see.

'Geez Birbil, who would've thought a body could turn so many colours in one day? Green, pink and now grey, you're going to set a record if you keep this up.'

Panting lessened slightly and younger brother tolerance levels severely depleted, the only reply was a growled;

'I haven't done black or blue yet. Heard they're nice though,' accompanied by a small tightening of the arm around Gordon's shoulder for emphasis.

Laughing at Gordon's expression, Scott decided to get their party moving.

'Come on big guy, we've got a cave to find. The tadpole can keep until later. He's not going anywhere, now, is he!'

Winking at their younger sibling over Virgil's head, Scott took a step, then another, urging Virgil forward with his arm around his waist. The slow, steady pace was difficult enough for the injured pilot, so the outcome of Gordon's next words were of no surprise to Scott.

'Birbil, this is going to take forever if we go at your old man speed... Can't we- '

An abrupt flick of the wrist, and Scott's cap met sand.

'Ow!'


End file.
